Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 418 The Sun Also Rises

In the study of the apartment at 117 Boulevard Saint-Germain, the silence of the night enveloped everything.

Lionel sat alone at his desk, a cup of black coffee that had long since gone cold beside him.

The scene at dinner at the "English Café," especially his own blurt out "You are the lost generation," and the shocked and bewildered expressions of Maupassant, Huysmann, and others that followed, kept echoing in his mind.

This word evoked far more memories and associations in him than he had expected.

As a soul from the future, he was all too familiar with this label; it was almost inextricably linked to the group of American writers who fled to Paris in the 1920s—Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and the like.

Many people believe that the term "Lost Generation" originated from Hemingway, but that is not actually the case.

This quote is from an American novelist, Gertrude Stein, who relayed the words of a car dealership owner.

At the time, she handed her old Ford to a repair shop, where the young man who had served in the war (World War I) was scolded by the boss for his poor skills and perfunctory attitude – “You are all a lost generation.”

Miss Gertrude Stein relayed this to Hemingway, asserting: "That's the kind of people you are. You're all like that, all of you who served in the war."

You are all a lost generation. You disrespect everything, you live a life of debauchery. Don't argue with me, you are a lost generation, exactly as the car dealership owner said.

However, this quote became famous because of Hemingway and became a label for an entire generation of American writers.

Sitting in his study in Paris in 1881, Lionel realized that this description perfectly captured the spirit of his French friends and the spiritual predicament of an entire generation of French youth after the Franco-Prussian War.

That's why he could say it so naturally at the dinner table.

In 1870, at the beginning of the Franco-Prussian War, the Second French Empire was also filled with blind optimism and so-called "patriotic enthusiasm." Newspapers were full of contempt for the "Prussian barbarians" and predictions of a swift victory for the French army.

French national self-confidence has reached its peak!

However, the disastrous defeat at Sedan, the capture of Napoleon III, the collapse of the Second Empire, the siege of Paris, and the eventual humiliating surrender of Alsace and Lorraine, followed by the bloody Commune week that ravaged Paris...

This series of rapid and devastating blows has shattered the pride of a nation.

The sheer drop from the illusory pinnacle of "glory" to the abyss of "collapse" in reality is enough to destroy any young, inexperienced mind.

As a communications soldier, Guy de Maupassant personally experienced the chaotic retreat of the French army and witnessed the absurdity and cruelty of humanity under the crushing weight of war.

That's why he relentlessly depicted the soldiers' wretchedness, the officers' hypocrisy, and the selfishness and baseness of the so-called upper class under the mask of "patriotism" in novels such as "Boule de Suif".

War dragged modern civilization back to a state of naked barbarity, and the so-called "honor" and "sacrifice" were nothing more than pale excuses to cover up plunder and killing.

This disillusionment is not merely the collapse of political stance and national faith, but also an incurable psychological trauma.

It shook the French people's trust in fundamental values ​​such as order, reason, and progress, which had been upheld since the Enlightenment.

Since lofty ideals can crumble so easily, and life is so fragile and unpredictable, indulging in sensory stimulation and seeking temporary anesthesia and solace in alcohol, women, and noisy salons seems to be the only reasonable choice.

Maupassant's choice of a dissolute life, his pessimism about life, his mockery of all that is sublime, and his complete disregard for the worsening disease are all specific symptoms of this age-related malaise.

Even the literary style of France as a whole shifted from the passion and fantasy of Romanticism to the calm, objective, and even cold-blooded realism and naturalism.

This shift is a direct reflection of the trauma of war in literary concepts.

Lionel repeated the word under his breath: "The Lost Generation..."

Hemingway and his friends were disillusioned amidst the ruins of World War I, while Maupassant, Huysmann, and others experienced this "confusion" earlier, amidst the ruins of the Franco-Prussian War.

They are the French version of the "Lost Generation," a group of people who use debauchery to mask their pain.

Lionel took a deep breath, his fingers landing on the typewriter keys, and typed the title of the novel:
The Sun Also Rises

The novel's protagonist is Jacques de Barna, a descendant of a minor nobleman who suffers a genital injury during the Franco-Prussian War, resulting in the loss of his sexual ability and his faith in honor.

After the war, he became a journalist for Le Figaro. Upon returning to Paris, he spent his days and nights in taverns and cafes with a group of veterans, exiled writers, and bankrupt aristocrats who had also been devastated by the war.

They hoped that alcohol would extinguish any remaining illusions they had about their country, religion, and love.

Berthe de Isabella, a noblewoman widowed by war, has now become the most dazzling "new woman".

She moved freely between banquets and salons, became engaged to the bankrupt Baron Michel de Saint-Falgo, and maintained an ambiguous relationship with the writer Robert Cohen, while still harboring unfulfilled feelings for Jacques from before the war.

The group, entangled in a knot of emptiness and longing, had no choice but to flee Paris together...

In the office of Émile Perrin, director of the Comédie-Française, heavy velvet curtains filtered the harsh afternoon sunlight, casting warm dappled patterns on the floor.

Lionel Sorel sat opposite Perrin, waiting quietly.

He watched as the dean turned the heavy pages of the manuscript of "The Café," his expression gradually shifting from initial anticipation to seriousness, his brow furrowing and relaxing at times...

Finally, when he saw the ironic "confession" scene on the last page, he let out a long sigh and gently placed the manuscript on his desk.

He looked up at Lionel, his eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions: amazement, admiration, and worry.

Emil Perrin was very cautious, showing none of the excitement he had when he first received the script: "Leon, this is undoubtedly a masterpiece!"
Its insight into history, its portrayal of human nature, and especially its progression from a lighthearted and humorous beginning to an irreversible abyss of tragedy...

These are all breathtaking; I have no doubt about their value!

Lionel didn't respond; he knew that what Emil Perrin said was just a prelude.

Sure enough, the director of the Comédie-Française paused, then changed the subject: "But you told me before that this was a 'comedy'?"
Forgive my frankness, but what I see more of is biting satire and profound pathos. Is it really appropriate to premiere it during the Christmas season?

He tried to get Lionel to understand his predicament, and began to explain seriously: "Christmas season, Lionel! That's the most important performance season of the year."

What are the Parisian gentlemen and ladies expecting when they spend tens or even hundreds of francs to bring their whole family to the theater?
It's a heartwarming story like "The Choir," Molière's classic works that make you laugh out loud, or a light and cheerful operetta!

They want to relax, seek solace and joy during the holidays, not... not be forced to reflect on a century of turmoil, or the weaknesses of human nature and the mistakes of their ancestors!

Emil Perrin shrugged, his face full of worry: "The audience might feel cheated—"

They came in expecting a comedy, but left with heavy hearts, perhaps even somewhat depressed.

This could be a gamble for the box office!

Lionel listened quietly, his face showing no displeasure at being questioned, but rather a calm demeanor.

He did not attempt to explain the satirical structure of the play, nor did he argue against the common sense that the core of so-called "comedy" is tragedy.

After Émile Perrin finished speaking, he simply nodded slightly, then very naturally reached out as if to take the script back from the table.

Lionel's tone was as flat as if he were discussing the weather: "Oh, is that not appropriate? I understand. It's alright, there are other theaters in Paris besides the Comédie-Concierto de Paris."

I believe we will eventually find a place willing to let it meet Parisian audiences this Christmas season!

Emile Perrin almost reflexively reached out and pressed down hard on the precious manuscript, as if it were the goose that lays golden eggs in the story of Jack and the Beanstalk.

He was extremely flustered. His calculations about the market and schedules just now crumbled instantly in the face of Lionel's nonchalant "threat".

Emil Perrin said urgently, "No! No! Leon, my good friend! You have to act! You must act!"
It'll be performed right here at our comedy theater! The Christmas season premiere, that's for sure!

He held the script tightly, afraid that Lionel would change his mind: "Such a good script, what stage besides our Comédie-Française is worthy of it?"
Audiences need guidance, and it's our responsibility to lead them to appreciate true art! I'll make the arrangements right away; we'll gather our best actors today, give them a sneak peek, and get them into rehearsals as soon as possible!

Seeing Emil Perrin's arrogant yet obsequious demeanor, Lionel's lips curled slightly upwards as he calmly sat back in his comfortable chair.

He knew that with the box office miracle of "The Chorus" and the revolutionary technology of "Thunderstorm," he held an absolute advantage in negotiations with any theater.

He had enough confidence to stick to his artistic principles, and the Paris Opera, as well as other well-known theaters throughout Europe, eagerly awaited his new work.

The minor incident was thus resolved, and the atmosphere in the office became harmonious again.

Emil Perrin breathed a sigh of relief, straightened his slightly disheveled collar, and quickly steered the conversation to another area that excited him.

His face lit up again, and he said with great interest, "Leon, when it comes to 'Thunderstorm,' you absolutely can't imagine how smoothly the 'Sorel-Tesla Electric' theater renovation project is progressing!"

He began to report on the results as if listing his treasures: "So far, we have officially signed renovation contracts for six of the most important theaters in France, including Lyon, Bordeaux, and Marseille!"
Moreover, the two West End theaters in London, the Imperial Theatre in St. Petersburg, and the Court Theatre in Vienna all had a long-term vision!
The total value of all these contracts, added together, is close to two million francs! I predict that theaters throughout Europe will be electrified within three years!

He became more and more excited as he spoke: "The renovation project of the Lyon Grand Theatre, in particular, is progressing the fastest and is expected to be fully completed by the beginning of October."

I've already made plans. I will personally lead our original cast of "Thunderstorm" to Lyon for a two-week tour as the opening ceremony of their new stage.

"Leon, this is a very important debut, and I urge you to attend the opening ceremony of the first performance in person."

(There will be another update later, please vote with your monthly tickets!)

(End of this chapter)